I swallowed it all. Now, I'm trying to spit it out and it's leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
Having always been a very private person, writing openly about myself is uncomfortable. It would require an invasion of a greater discomfort to inspire my considering writing as a relief. Abject misery is the only compelling motivator that could drive me to actually put my words out 'there'. That misery arrived this past Monday, 1/26, courtesy of a Google search.
I don't know if I'm the only person who searches for misplaced friends and family and former flames by submitting their name to the internet gods. I've been doing this every year without fail since 1996 for at least one person. The changes in technology and user adoption improves the search results each year. Monday, I began the search for someone I lost contact with in 2006. Last year, the query string returned '3' hits. That was a 300% improvement from the 0 hits of 2006 - 2008. The search returned 100's of hits this time and the first result said more than I wanted to know.
Jeff is dead. He committed suicide May 9th. No one knew this until June 12th. Jeff was someone I've loved for a very long time and for very good reason. He deserved better.
And the misery is enough to force me to spit it out..bad taste or not..
Because of how it happened. Because it will happen, again, if I don't resolve to change things that weaken my resistance to the visitor that has long overextended their stay. That would be Judas. My Judas Beast.